


The Flame in the Dark

by Lady_in_Red



Series: The Ballad of the Kingslayer and the Lady Evenstar [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, post-adwd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 15:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/pseuds/Lady_in_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock return to King’s Landing, where they must face Jaime’s past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> Here I must thank the lovely Miss_M for her swift and insightful beta work. I'd not worked with a beta before and these chapters are already much improved through her efforts.

Cersei sat demurely below the Iron Throne, clad in a simple red gown. Her lush golden hair, once shorn down to stubble, remained shorter than most boys’, and she wore no jewels or ornaments. She regarded Jaime with disdain and accusation as he entered the throne room. A young septa stood not far away, watching the dowager queen with interest.

Tommen sat on the throne, his small feet kicking back and forth, a black kitten purring in his lap as he idly stroked it. He looked older than Jaime remembered, but too young for all this. Queen Margaery sat nearby, lovely as always but still twice Tommen’s age. It was a strong match for the Tyrells, but she would be past twenty before Tommen had any interest in bedding her. Small wonder Lord Tywin had wanted Jaime to take her instead.

Brienne was clutching Jaime’s arm. He snuck a quick glance at her. She wore the same blue gown she’d married him in, now decorated with red and gold embroidery Sansa had added during their voyage. Oathkeeper was sheathed at her waist. Her wispy hair was loose around her face in a vain effort to distract from the bright twist of scar and new skin on her cheek.

Jaime had gone to his old rooms in the White Sword Tower that morning. There he’d found sufficient Lannister crimson and gold: beautiful tunics, surcoats, breeches, and boots so fine he tossed the ones he’d been wearing into a corner. Before he walked out of that room for the last time, Jaime completed his own page in the White Book in his halting, childish letters.

> He went into the Riverlands to bring the king’s peace to the lords there and ended the siege of Riverrun without bloodshed. Ser Jaime then slew Lady Stoneheart of the Brotherhood Without Banners. Ser Jaime was released from the Kingsguard due to his maiming, and inherited his family seat of Casterly Rock. Lord Jaime wed Lady Brienne of Tarth. 

As they approached the Iron Throne, a page announced them. “Lord Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lady Brienne of Tarth, Your Grace.”

Jaime bowed before little Tommen, who finally looked up and noticed them. “Ser Uncle!” he said, smiling. _My smile._ Brienne performed a rather awkward curtsy beside him.

“Your Grace, Queen Margaery, Queen Cersei.” He nodded to each. Jaime’s heart pounded. This was the moment that had plagued his dreams. _Cersei flying into a rage. Cersei indifferent. Cersei laughing_. “Might I have the honor of presenting my lady wife, Lady Brienne Lannister of Casterly Rock, the Evenstar of Tarth.”

Cersei blanched, shock evident on her delicate features, then as red rage rose in her cheeks she swallowed hard. “Your lady wife?” she spat.

Margaery clapped gleefully. “My lord, you are full of surprises.” She turned her smile on Brienne. Jaime had not been sure how Margaery would react, and Brienne desperately needed an ally at court. Margaery’s warmth boded well for his wife’s happiness in King’s Landing. “Lady Brienne, it is good to see you again, in happier circumstances.” Brienne blushed. “I must confess this is not a match I would have expected.”

“Nor I, Your Grace, but my lord husband and I find it suits us well.” Brienne smiled shyly at Jaime, and he smiled back at her.

Mace Tyrell, perched upon a hand-shaped chair nearly as understated as the Iron Throne itself, finally spoke up. “My lady, Lord Jaime titles you the Evenstar?”

Brienne nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Jaime wrapped his arm around his wife. He could see Cersei stiffen out of the corner of his eye. “We received word while in the Vale that Lord Selwyn perished in the Pretender’s attack on Tarth,” Jaime explained.

Giving Brienne her father’s title was Jaime’s idea. Lord Selwyn had earned the title for being steadfast and dependable in battle. The Evenstar always rose in the east, and Lord Selwyn always won his battles. Until the Golden Company raided his shores, he had never been defeated. Even then, Lord Selwyn fell in battle rather than surrender. Jaime could think of no title that fit his bride better.

Brienne pulled away from Jaime’s embrace and stood as tall as she had clad in armor. “My father regrettably chose to support Lord Stannis’ claim,” she nearly spat Stannis’ name. “But I come to pledge Tarth to King Tommen.” Jaime noted that she was careful to pledge only to Tommen, not the crown. Brienne inclined her head to the little king, who was happily playing with his kitten again. “Should His Grace’s fleet have need of a safe harbor in the Stormlands to fight the Pretender, they are always welcome at Evenfall. I will write a letter for the captain of any ship His Grace cares to send. My people will provide whatever support they can.”

Lord Mace seemed a bit taken aback at how polite and compliant the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock were being. Jaime did enjoy defying expectations, and putting the Hand off balance was all to the good. “That is appreciated, Lady Brienne. Might I beg a word in private with Lord Jaime? I would hear about his travels, and I’m sure it would be rather dull listening for the ladies.”

“Of course, Lord Hand,” Jaime replied. “It’s quite an exciting tale. My lady wife proved rather adept with a blade during our travels, but she can tell the queens anything they wish to know about that.”

Jaime allowed his eyes to find Cersei. From the moment he’d burned her letter, Jaime had often wondered what would happen when he was in Cersei’s presence again. When he returned last time, she had said that he was changed. Now he found that she was changed as well. Perhaps she had been different for some time, but now Jaime could see the passage of time in her as well as a new hardness in her eyes. Had Cersei always looked upon him with such contempt?

Then her gaze settled on Brienne. Cersei’s eyes narrowed, a lioness stalking her prey. Her gaze drifted back to Jaime, and with one predatory smile she burnt out the last of his affection for her.

As Cersei and Margaery rose from their seats, Brienne shot Jaime a quick, panicked glance.

Jaime kissed her hand and escorted her to the door, following the two queens. She squeezed his hand hard before she released him and left reluctantly.

Mace Tyrell ushered Jaime through the Keep to the Hand’s solar. The Tower of the Hand was still under construction, largely because Lord Mace insisted it should be twice as tall as the old one.  Jaime sat in the chair Lord Mace indicated, and the Hand sat behind the desk Lord Tywin had once occupied.

Lord Mace eyed him appraisingly. “You wasted no time in wedding,” he observed.

Jaime nodded. “Tarth will make a good base for the Redwyne fleet now and if the Targaryen girl makes a move.” He hesitated, then added, “My lady wife and I know each other well. It was an easy choice.”

The Hand seemed to accept that. “Lord Jaime, I find myself in a difficult position. You and I do not perhaps see eye to eye, but we share a common goal.”

“And what might that be?” The Hand’s goals must revolve around clearing his daughter’s name and securing an advantageous bride for his heir. Margaery and Willas could both burn merrily in the seven hells for all Jaime cared about them.

“Keeping the king on his throne,” Lord Mace said bluntly.

“And the queen on hers?” Jaime replied smoothly. Keeping Tommen on the throne was not Jaime’s priority now that he was not in the Kingsguard. Keeping the boy’s head on his shoulders was.

Mace Tyrell fidgeted with a quill on his desk. The man’s nerves did nothing to quell Jaime’s growing unease about the purpose of this meeting. “As you say. With Ser Kevan’s unfortunate passing, the king is without a regent. His mother is…” Tyrell struggled to find a word that would not give offense.

“Dangerous,” Jaime supplied. “We need not dance around this, Lord Mace. I know what Cersei is.”

“Then you may not be terribly surprised by what I have to ask of you,” the Hand said with obvious relief.

Jaime suddenly knew what Mace Tyrell was about to say, and cursed himself for not realizing sooner. _We should have run to Braavos._ “You want to name me Tommen’s regent.”


	2. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne spends a little time with Cersei and Margaery. Cersei is a less than gracious loser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, a chapter improved by the comments of Miss_M. =)

“I can’t help but notice that you carry a sword, my lady, “ Queen Margaery said brightly as she settled into her chair. “On other women it might seem strange, but it suits you.”

Brienne was not sure if this was actually a compliment, but she decided to treat it as one. “Thank you, Your Grace. It was a gift from my lord husband, to thank me for returning him to King’s Landing from Riverrun. He named it Oathkeeper.” She took off the sword belt, careful not to draw naked steel in the company of the two queens and two members of the Kingsguard she did not recognize. “It is my most prized possession.”

Margaery gestured to it and a handmaiden took the belt and brought it to the queen. She slipped the sword from its elaborate scabbard and admired the gold lions and rubies on its hilt. “Is this Valyrian steel?”

“It is, yes.”

Cersei finally took an interest. Her eyes narrowed. “Father had that sword forged for Jaime from the traitor Ned Stark’s blade. There were two. He gave this to you?”

“Yes. Jaime carries the other one. He did not think the King quite ready for it yet.” _Cersei flinches when I use his name._

“It was a wedding gift for my lord husband King Joffrey,” Margaery said softly. “He called it Widow’s Wail.” She shuddered a little. If Sansa had the right of it, Margaery had helped kill her husband.

Brienne frowned. Jaime had never referred to the blade by name. With a name like that, it was no wonder. “Perhaps King Tommen may rename it when he is ready to wield it,” she suggested.

The younger queen nodded and sheathed Oathkeeper. A handmaiden returned it to Brienne. Cersei still regarded Brienne with undisguised distaste. “My dear brother disappeared from his host more than a moon's turn ago. Tell me, my lady, how long have you been wed?”

Brienne was expecting this. There was no point in disguising that they’d traveled nearly alone together. “Eight days.” _And have scarcely left each other’s sight since._

“So you traveled with my sweet brother alone for quite some time before you were wed? How _intimate_.” The implication was clear, and even Margaery had the tact to blush a little.

Brienne forced herself to meet the queen regent’s challenge. Cersei had all the beauty, power, and gold that she lacked. Yet Brienne had stolen two of Cersei’s favorite toys. Lady Sansa was safely hidden in Brienne’s chambers and tonight Jaime would be in her bed. Brienne looked right into Cersei’s cold green eyes. They were nothing like Jaime’s. “My squire was with us. Jaime and I are well practiced at maintaining propriety on the road. Remember we traveled together when I brought him back to you, Your Grace.”

“Ah yes, the Imp’s squire. How fitting. Regardless, rumors run rampant in the Riverlands that the Brotherhood Without Banners was destroyed by the Kingslayer and his whore. Rumors like that could easily cause the Faith to consider dissolving your marriage.” Cersei’s triumphant expression was ugly.

Margaery was becoming increasingly distressed, but Brienne was glad to have a witness to this. “Jaime and I heard the talk as well. I insisted on being examined by a maester before we were wed. He wrote a letter to the High Septon confirming my maidenhood. We would not be parted.”

Cersei rose abruptly. “I wish you luck in your marriage. I find my brother has become increasingly fickle in his affections of late.”

Brienne’s smile was hard. “What a pity, Your Grace. My lord husband has shown me again and again how fiercely he fights for those he loves. Jaime once jumped into a bear pit unarmed to save my life.”

Cersei swept from the room, her septa trailing behind her.

“A bear pit? Now this is a tale I must hear. Perhaps we should summon a minstrel. I feel there is a song in this somewhere,” Margaery said with a wide smile.

_There will be no songs about a scarred warrior maid and a one-handed Kingslayer, Jaime once said. Perhaps he was wrong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fairly brief, chapter 3 will be up in a few days.
> 
> Up next: big changes for the Lord and Lady of Casterly Rock.


	3. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime make hard choices again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That this chapter makes any sense at all is due in large part to Miss_M's diligent beta work. Thank you!

**One year later**

 

The night Jaime told her he must go North they lay in bed but neither slept. Brienne could no longer find a comfortable position to lie in, and Jaime had the fates of all Seven Kingdoms heaped on his shoulders.

“Why must _you_ lead the men? Why not send Ser Daven?”

Jaime turned onto his side to face his wife. Brienne cast a glance down at herself, trying to see herself as he did. Swollen belly and breasts dominated her view. Several moons without wielding a sword had also melted some of the heavy muscles from her arms and shoulders. Forced to wear gowns that accommodated her growing bulk, Brienne felt more ungainly than ever. Jaime cradled her scarred cheek in his hand. The bite had faded from livid red to pale pink, but she still heard the whispers as she passed by, especially in the city.

“The Targaryen girl is coming. We lost a third of our strength fighting the Pretender and there’s barely enough food for the soldiers we still have.” Jaime sighed. “Brienne, she’ll feed me to one of her dragons before the sun sets the first day of her reign. If I’m at the Wall, perhaps she’ll ignore me long enough that we can end the threat from the North. Daven must stay at Riverrun. If we fail, he will go to Moat Cailin and hold the Neck.”

It was a sound plan, but she could not fail to hear the finality of his words. If the wights did not kill Jaime, Daenerys Targaryen most certainly would. “Who will defend the city? Marbrand and his Gold Cloaks?” she asked.

Jaime dropped his hand from her face, his fingers tracing her bare shoulder. He would not meet her eyes. “No, Addam will take you all to Casterly Rock. You and our child, Cersei, your ladies, Tommen, and Myrcella. Aerys’ queen ran to Dragonstone. I can only hope that fleeing will protect you too.”

“I will not leave you.” Brienne recognized the mulish tone she’d used far more frequently back in the Riverlands, when Jaime’s shackles were iron rather than oaths.

You will.” His words were gentle but firm. Jaime rested his hand on her stomach, which twitched periodically against his fingers. The babe had hiccups again. He or she would be born within a moon’s turn. “You made a vow to protect Lady Catelyn’s daughters. You’ll go, and you will keep them all safe.”

Brienne was surprised he’d said even that much aloud. There were too many secret passages in the Keep to speak freely here. They both knew that the grey-eyed girl Sansa had brought to Brienne not long ago was not Cat from Braavos but Arya Stark, though she spoke Braavosi well enough. Brienne liked the girl despite her initial hostility toward Jaime.  Her sudden appearance in King’s Landing had spurred Jaime to tell both girls how Bran Stark fell. Sansa did not speak to him for days, but Cat said only that Bran was on the path he needed to follow.

“If we flee, the Dragon Queen will take the Iron Throne,” Brienne protested.

“Without burning the city to a pile of slag like Harrenhal,” Jaime pointed out.

There it was, the one truth she could not dispute. _At least this time you need not stab a king in the back to save King’s Landing._ They would still call Jaime craven. They would call him Kingslayer even as he saved Tommen with this act.

Brienne was silent a moment. “You’ve been a good regent, Jaime.” No one was more surprised by that than Jaime himself, but his wife had worried too. Jaime had trouble keeping his temper, delighted in irritating everyone, and sometimes seemed more fickle in his attentions than the little king.

Yet, as much as he denied it, Jaime had absorbed the lessons of his father. With Sansa’s hairnet as evidence of the Tyrells’ involvement in Joffrey’s murder, Jaime had quietly worked out a deal with Lord Mace. In exchange for his daughter and mother keeping their heads, the Hand gave Jaime the proof he needed to blame the entire plot on Petyr Baelish. That Baelish had not lived long enough to stand trial suited everyone, though Brienne did not care to dwell on the manner of his death.

Jaime had also petitioned the Faith to drop the charges against Margaery in exchange for setting aside her marriage to Tommen. The little rose returned to Highgarden, and her father and brother remained behind where they could be easily watched. Upon his return from Dragonstone Loras had proved a capable enough Lord Commander.

Her innocence proved, Sansa set aside the name Alayne Stone, though she remained in the Red Keep as one of Brienne’s ladies. She had nowhere else to go. Sansa secured her own annulment on grounds of abandonment and non-consummation, and suitors wrote often asking Jaime to arrange a betrothal, but Sansa had no interest in making a match.

The hardest part for Jaime had been fighting the war against the Pretender from the Red Keep instead of going to battle himself, but as regent his place was with Tommen. Many afternoons Brienne would watch Jaime sparring with Loras, taking out his frustration on the younger man. Jaime refused to spar with her when he was angry. By the time the war was won she couldn’t spar anyway.

Jaime sighed and rested his head against Brienne’s chest, curling his body around hers. “You never complained about life at court. I hadn’t realized war could be so bloody dull.”

Brienne stroked his hair. “It was hard at first. All my life I was openly mocked and then suddenly I was Lady Lannister, whom they could only scorn behind my back. I bore it because I could spend my mornings in the yard teaching the squires and each feast watching the pretty noble girls new to court.”

Jaime looked up at her, brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

Brienne smiled, the wicked smile she learned from him. “Because they openly stared at your terribly handsome face. Then I would come sit beside you and kiss you, and see the moment they realized that the massive, scarred woman dressed in breeches was your wife.”

Jaime laughed, delighted. “That explains some of your more wonderfully improper dinner behavior.”

She shrugged. “A few kisses at dinner is hardly improper. You once took me in the armory after a sparring session.”

“We should have done that more often,” Jaime said wistfully, but they both knew that their sparring had ended by necessity. The babe kicked suddenly, and her belly moved under his hand. As wanted as this child was, she hated not being able to fight and despaired of how much practice it would take to get back her skills.

Brienne was grateful for the distraction the child provided, but Jaime’s plan weighed on her. “This is truly the only way? You go to war and I hide away at the Rock with Cersei and the children?”

Jaime stared down at his hand on her stomach, and Brienne was stunned to see his eyes bright with tears. As best she could tell, there was a foot pressing firmly up against his hand. He swallowed hard. “Gods help us, yes.”

Brienne covered his hand with hers and waited until his breathing steadied. A single year together was not enough. It would never be long enough. She could not bear the thought of someday telling her child that she had abandoned his father to this fate. “I will treat with the Dragon Queen. She’s less likely to take my head,” Brienne said gently.

“No, I like your head where it is,” Jaime insisted. “I will send the Hand.”

She laughed. “Mace Tyrell would truss you up and present you to her as a welcoming gift. When the time comes, I’ll go. Perhaps the Mother of Dragons will listen to another mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, no more big time jumps for a few more chapters.


	4. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime prepares to leave King's Landing, while Brienne faces a different kind of battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference going forward, a sennight = a week, and a fortnight = two weeks.  
> Thanks again to Miss_M for her tireless beta work!

**One fortnight later**

 

Jaime rushed through the corridors of the Red Keep, pushing past guards, servants, and a very surprised septon in his haste. The Lord Regent had been at the harbor all morning inspecting the ships that would take him and his men to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, although Lord Commander Snow’s latest raven strongly recommended that they make for White Harbor instead to add their strength to Lord Stannis’ at Winterfell. Wights had already overrun sections of the Wall and Snow expected that his men would fall back to Last Hearth long before the crown’s forces arrived. Only when Jaime had returned to his solar did he find Podrick pacing outside. The look on Pod’s face told him everything he needed to know.

Finding Brienne’s door barred, Jaime pounded his single fist against it, wishing for the first time in many moons that he still had the golden hand.

Brienne’s maid Cat finally opened the door, stepping smoothly out of his way as Jaime barged into the room.

“My lord, I’m afraid I must insist that you leave,” the maester, a plump older man whose name Jaime could never remember, stepped in front of him.

“Can you wield a sword?”

The maester blanched. “No, my lord.”

“You’ll need one if you expect me to go,” Jaime growled, sweeping past the maester. Across the room was his wife’s bed, and in it his wife. Her eyes were screwed shut and she was panting hard, her hands clutching convulsively at the sheets. Sweat soaked her blonde hair and the light shift she wore. Small cries tore out of her and she rocked forward, one hand suddenly clutching at her belly.

Jaime fell to his knees at her side, grabbing the hand still fisted in the sheets. “Brienne,” he said urgently. “I’m so sorry. They didn’t tell me.”

Her eyes snapped open, relief flooding her face. “Jaime.” Then pain distorted her features again and she nearly crushed his hand in her grip.

Long seconds passed before Brienne’s grip loosened and she relaxed. Her blue eyes were clouded with pain and exhaustion. Jaime had seen that expression before, but the eyes had been green. “All this to get out of Tommen’s sparring lesson tonight?” he teased.

Jaime, Loras, and Brienne all took turns teaching the young king to fight and to joust. While Brienne could not currently wield a sword, she was still better with a morningstar than either man. After Lady Nym returned Myrcella from Dorne early in the war, the princess had joined their lessons at Brienne’s insistence. Jaime had not realized how much he’d missed, so close to his children all these years yet so removed from them.

Brienne smiled grimly. “I asked for my sword. _That one_ refused me.” She nodded at the maester. “I tried to get it myself, but I fell when the pains hit.”

The look Jaime threw the maester was black. Were he not completely necessary Jaime would throw him out of the room. He stood and stalked across the room, removing Oathkeeper’s scabbard from its hook on the wall and bringing it back to Brienne. Without unsheathing the blade, she tucked it down at her right side and wrapped her right hand around the hilt. Calm settled over her face.

“My lord, you should not be here. Birth can be … distressing for fathers,” the maester offered weakly.

“I witnessed King Joffrey’s birth. Unless you want to join the Pretender in the black cells, do not tell me to leave again.” Jaime’s tone brooked no argument. Joffrey’s birth had changed everything. Jaime had been too young, younger than Brienne was now, to truly understand what he and Cersei had done when they made Joffrey. Cersei still failed to understand all they had set in motion. Her life had been spared, yes, thanks to one of Qyburn’s monsters in a trial by combat. Confined to rooms at the top of the Kitchen Keep, Cersei still thought she’d won. _And she thinks I’m the fool._

Another wave of pain hit Brienne. This time her right hand clutched the sword so hard he was certain she would bruise her palm. Her left hand reached for him and Jaime laced his fingers through hers. He leaned closer, kissed her cheek, and whispered fiercely, “You can do this. One day of pain is nothing to the Maid of Tarth.”

She laughed. As the pain began to recede, Brienne reminded him, “I have not been a maid in some time.” She breathed deeply. “This is worse than a melee. It just doesn’t end.”

Jaime smiled. _Only my wife would compare birth to a melee._

“My lady, I must look,” the maester said feebly, and Brienne let the man peer beneath the blankets. “You may push with the next pain.”

“See, it’s almost over. Nothing we can’t face.”

“We? I don’t see -” Brienne’s retort was cut off as the pain seized her again. She rocked forward and groaned. The maester pulled back the blankets and watched as she started to push. Jaime could see that she was struggling, trying to curl around her belly. He shucked off his surcoat and sat beside her on the bed, wrapping his right arm around her shoulders and supporting her weight.

A gush of fluids and blood spilled out onto the bed. Brienne growled with effort and fell back against Jaime’s arm. She took a deep breath and pushed again.

And again.  And again. Time ceased to matter, except the brief stolen moments when Brienne rested against him and Jaime whispered a series of increasingly inappropriate names for the babe in her ear. When he resorted to _Renly_ , she released Oathkeeper briefly to punch his shoulder. “No more, Jaime.”

As she hit him, her shift rode up and Jaime saw the livid purple-red marks their child’s rapid growth had left on her belly. He laughed. “He’s a bear, this one. He’s clawed you and he’s not even born yet.”

Brienne smiled wanly. “You never let me forget that bear.”

And then the pain hit again and Jaime saw the fierce determination he loved so well in her freckled face.

Finally Brienne cried out and a slick, bloody body fell into the maester’s waiting hands. She lay back against Jaime and he held her tightly, waiting.

The maester rubbed the babe vigorously with linen until an indignant shriek arose. The maester smiled, cut the infant loose from its mother, and began to wrap the now squalling child in blankets. He looked up. “You have a son, my lord.”

Jaime released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. _A son._ He kissed Brienne’s temple, her cheek, her mouth.

She broke away from his kiss. “Give him to Jaime. Now,” she commanded.

The maester fussed with the babe for another moment, then stood. Jaime quickly moved to pull his right arm from behind Brienne’s back. When the maester gently placed the fiercely crying child in his arms, Jaime settled in closer to Brienne, and she wrapped her right arm under his, her hand making up for his missing one.

The babe peered up at them, his cries subsiding. He had large blue eyes, calm as a summer sky. A tangle of damp blonde curls covered his head. Jaime found that he couldn’t look away. The child was surprisingly heavy, a solid weight in his arms and on his heart.

“Galladon Lannister,” Brienne said quietly.

Jaime nodded. “Heir to Tarth,” he added, moving to give Brienne the babe. She put him to her breast, staring down in wonder. For all her protests that she was not made to be a mother, Brienne had loved the child the moment he quickened. She would not be the soft, demure sort of mother Jaime remembered, but she would protect their son fiercely, teach him to fight, and never ask him to be something he was not.

Soon Brienne slept, but Galladon was alert. Jaime took him from Brienne’s arms and laid him down on the bed. He gently inspected every inch of their boy, then awkwardly managed to wrap the blankets around Galladon again.

Night fell and the Seven Kingdoms slept. Jaime Lannister held his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what does Cersei think about all this? Coming Wednesday, you'll find out.


	5. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei has two visitors. Much like Jon Snow, she knows nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as usual goes to Miss_M, who kept the timeline from utterly falling apart and suggested a much-needed addition to this chapter.

**The following day**

  
Cersei stood by the door to her balcony, sipping wine and watching the ships on the Blackwater. Cooking smells drifted in from below. This modest apartment had last belonged to the Imp and his treacherous wife. That the little dove now lived openly in Maegor’s Holdfast made Cersei ill, but this was not the time to dwell on that. A page had informed her an hour ago that the Lord Regent would visit her this morning.

Yesterday his broodmare had gone to the birthing bed. Cersei had spent the day fervently praying for a stillbirth, ideally one that would kill the bitch as well, but that was too much to hope for. Young and freakishly strong, the beast had whelped a healthy son. Cersei was not sure why Jaime bothered coming to tell her about it. She did not care about the Evenstar or her spawn beyond the shame that they called themselves Lannisters.

The regent’s child was not the only news floating around the Keep. Cersei sometimes overheard servants talking to each other, and she could scarcely fail to notice the warships gathered in the harbor. As Robert had feared, the Targaryen girl had finally sailed from Slaver’s Bay with her army, and Jaime was running from her. They said it was to aid the fight in the North, but this was not the first time her twin had run from trouble.

Jaime had visited once before, though not alone, right after he was appointed Lord Regent. The Imp’s stammering squire had come with him. Cersei had expected an explanation of his actions or an apology for abandoning her, disappearing with that cow of a woman, and then having the gall to wed before Cersei could forbid it. Instead Jaime had threatened her. Should anything happen to his wife he would end her life himself. _His wife._ The notion still repulsed her. As if Jaime could ever harm her. Cersei could take him back in an instant if she ever wanted him again.

There was a knock at her door and Jaime entered, the squire cowering behind him again.

“Sister,” he greeted her as the squire closed the door. Jaime looked exhausted, dark smudges under his green eyes.

“So you are a father now,” Cersei said acidly, drawing her wine cup slowly to her lips. Confinement was rather easy to bear with a decent vintage filling her cup. The children even came to see her now and then.

“Yes.” The word was so soft she almost missed it. Jaime looked down at his hand. Cersei noted the missing one.

“Why do you not wear the golden hand?” The question was sharper than she’d intended, but she would not call the words back. He flinched. She smiled.

Jaime ran his hand through his tousled gold hair, streaked with silver at the temples and beard. He looked as if he’d slept in the saddle. “I sent it to Edmure Tully long ago.”

A costly threat, but she did not question Jaime’s whims. His mind was a mystery she no longer desired to solve. “You should have had another made. Better that than a constant reminder of your loss.”

His eyes met hers. “I want no reminders of what I lost, Cersei.” Jaime shook his head as he stood awkwardly near the door. He’d not taken a step closer since he arrived. “I’m sending you home.”

“I am home, brother. This is my domain.” She gestured expansively to the simple quarters she had been banished to after her trial. “Here I am the queen.”

“Dowager queen, sister. You will go to the Rock.” Jaime was playing Regent again, formal and cold. “I will have details sent to you.”

“And what of my children, Jaime? Your king? Surely you do not expect me to leave them here alone.” She could play at formality as well.

“Tommen and Myrcella will accompany you,” he explained. “Let the Tyrells defend the city. You will all be safe at the Rock. Brienne and Galladon will go as well.”

“Brienne?” Cersei drew out each syllable, mocking. “I have so many tales to share with her, dear brother.”

Jaime glared at her. “I love Brienne. She knows everything, but if you press her, you will find her claws are as sharp as yours.”

Cersei shrugged. There were many small cruelties she could easily visit upon the naive young mother. It was a long journey. Cersei would require amusement.

Jaime’s gaze was full of pity. “This is all I can do for you, Cersei. Crawl out of your cups now and then. It might do you some good to spend time with your children. Show them all the places we loved as children.”

She did not want his pity. “Show them yourself. I can hardly tell them what we did in our favorite places, _brother_ ,” Cersei snapped, finishing her wine. She set the cup down with a clang.

“Farewell, sister.” Jaime looked away, his hand clenching into a fist as he turned and left her.

Perhaps he’d always been a fool, and his beauty had hidden it from her. Maimed, bearded, and beginning to gray, Jaime now bore little resemblance to her passionate golden knight. That absurd _girl_ was welcome to him.   

 

A sennight passed before the servant who brought Cersei’s dinner accidentally let slip that the fleet sailed North tomorrow. Surely Jaime would not leave without seeing her. Their last exchange was hardly what she deserved after a lifetime together.

Cersei barely touched her dinner and spent the evening pacing her chambers restlessly.

“He won’t come.”

Cersei turned. She had not heard the door open, but a young maid stood there nonetheless. Brown hair, grey eyes, long face. No one.

“Your brother spends his last night in the Keep with his wife and son. Instead, I bring you a gift.”

“What gift?” Cersei asked. A token from Jaime perhaps.

“A death as swift as the one you gave my father.” Her face was oddly placid as she said this.

“Your father? I do not know you, girl. Be gone. I want no gifts from you.” Cersei was accustomed to death threats. The servants had begun making snide comments at her expense after her walk of shame, but that unpleasantness was coming to an end. Ser Loras Tyrell would escort her to Casterly Rock with her children within days.

A feral smile. “The price has already been paid with the tears of my sister and the blood of my pack.”

Cersei stalked to her table and refilled her wine cup. “Who are you?” The girl would be dismissed by morning. She would see to it herself.

The girl’s teeth were sharp, her eyes bright. “No one. Beth. Cat of the canals. Salty. Nan. Weasel. Lumpyface. Arry.” She advanced, silent and graceful. “Fear cuts deeper than swords. What do you fear?”

“I fear nothing,” Cersei said, defiant. She raised the cup to her lips and drank deeply, clutching it  more tightly to hide her shaking hand.

The girl seized her arm and Cersei’s hand went to the girl’s throat. “You fear growing old, losing your beauty, losing power.” Her nails bit into the queen’s arm and Cersei wrenched away, her cup tumbling to the floor. The girl laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Your skin sags and wrinkles, your body softens. Your lover abandoned you for a woman younger and more beautiful.”

At that Cersei laughed and backed away unsteadily. _How could she know about that?_  “Younger, yes. More beautiful? Never.” She’d drunk too much wine tonight while waiting for Jaime. Her words were slightly slurred.

“There is beauty in those who are brave and true.” The girl was almost wistful for a moment, then her eyes snapped back to Cersei.

The queen had taken a knife off the table where her dinner still sat.

The girl advanced toward the dowager queen, who struggled desperately to remember the few lessons of swordplay she’d stolen in her youth while dressed as her twin. Cersei lunged at the girl, but she flicked the knife from the older woman’s hand with ease. She seized Cersei’s arms and dragged the queen with hands stronger than her slight appearance suggested.

Cersei’s silk slippers slid across the floor toward the balcony. “Who are you?” Cersei asked again. There was something familiar about those eyes, that stare.

The girl remained silent until the cold night air whipped her hair. They were at the balcony door now. _Why is that door open?_  “Arya Stark.”

“Arya Stark is dead,” Cersei protested, her tongue thick in her mouth.

The girl’s smile returned, savage, more of a snarl. “ _Valor morghulis_. All men must die.”

“ _Valonqar_ ,” Cersei breathed, her head swimming. No, this was not the way it was supposed to end. She and Jaime would end as they’d begun, together. _Jaime_. “If you want a life, take Jaime. He crippled your brother.”

Arya Stark licked her lips in a predatory fashion as she pushed Cersei across the balcony. “I know. He told me.”

Cersei fought right up until her lower back hit the heavy stonework edging the balcony. Triumph flashed in her eyes. She was taller and heavier than this girl. She would not be pushed.

Arya’s hands left Cersei’s arms, red crescents that wept blood marking the flesh. “Did you enjoy the wine, Your Grace?”

A red as deep as blood, an unfamiliar vintage. Braavosi, the servant who brought it had said. _The wine._ Cersei found her arms and legs had grown heavy.

In the end, Arya Stark did not need to push hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you think? Take a minute and let me know if you have time. Thanks!


	6. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys Stormborn reaches King's Landing _finally_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a day early because why not? 
> 
> Thanks as always to Miss_M for her beta efforts.

**8 days after Cersei’s death**

 

Jaime had been gone seven days when the Dragon Queen’s flagship sailed into Blackwater Bay. Two ships bearing Unsullied eunuchs flanked the flagship as it approached, while the remainder of her fleet held fast near Dragonstone.  

Brienne made her way to the harbor and went out to greet the queen on her flagship. Tyrell men guarded the docks, but Lord Commander Loras Tyrell was not among them. Loras had taken his king out of the city two days ago, along with Myrcella, the Stark girls, Pod, a wet nurse, and Galladon. His small face and strong little hands appeared behind her eyelids with every blink. If all went to plan, Brienne would hold him again in two days.  

Ser Addam Marbrand accompanied her, the only man left in King’s Landing who Jaime trusted at her side. They made an odd pair as they crossed the deck of the Dragon Queen’s flagship. Ser Addam’s copper hair and gold cloak caught the light nearly as brightly as Brienne’s cloth-of-gold gown.

Still regrettably unable to lace up her old breeches, Brienne had chosen to wear the most expensive gown she owned. It barely fit. Atop that she wore a blue steel breastplate with elaborate crimson scrollwork, a gift from Jaime, with Oathkeeper sheathed at her hip. While the armor gave Brienne some much-needed confidence, at the moment its tightness served only to irritate her heavily-bound breasts. The maester swore it would help ease the pain more quickly but so far it only reminded Brienne that Galladon was gone.

A large Dothraki with a long braid tinkling with bells led them from the deck down into a passageway, ushering them into the captain’s cabin. The large chair that served as Daenerys’ throne was empty, but the cabin was not. Standing by the throne was a dwarf with gold and black hair, a deep scar running across both cheeks and a missing nose. “Lord Tyrion?” Brienne gasped.

Tyrion offered her the same smirk that often graced Jaime’s face. “Goodsister, at last we meet. Ser Addam, it has been too long.”

The men exchanged pleasantries, but Brienne’s mind reeled. Jaime had confessed his part in Tyrion’s escape, as well as Tyrion’s reasons for killing their father, not long after they returned to King’s Landing. How had Tyrion ended up at the Dragon Queen’s side?

“I hear you’ve given me another nephew, my lady.” Tyrion’s comment pulled Brienne from her reverie.

“Yes, my lord.” Brienne stumbled over her words. The confidence she’d gained over the past year fled in Tyrion’s unexpected presence.

“And does this child have a name?” Tyrion prompted.

Even mention of the babe made her breasts ache more. At this rate Brienne would be in agony by the time the queen deigned to speak with her. “Galladon. He has my eyes but the rest is all Jaime, thank the seven.”

Tyrion laughed and gave her a look Brienne could only interpret as sympathy. “My brother does not seem to mind your looks, my lady, if half the tales I’ve heard are true.” He chuckled. “Cersei must hate that.”

“My lord, I thought you knew.” Brienne hesitated, watching his brow furrow. “Cersei is dead.”

“How?” Tyrion asked, but he betrayed no grief.

“She fell from her balcony only days ago.”

Tyrion’s gaze went to Addam, who nodded. “I suppose I am only surprised it wasn’t a dagger in her back.”

Brienne kept silent. Cersei’s death was a relief, but Tommen and Myrcella grieved for her. Jaime had not discussed it at all before he left. He said that Cersei had taken enough of his life, she would not take his last moments with Brienne.

Tyrion turned and paced before the improvised throne, glancing their way now and then. Finally Brienne could not bear to wait any longer.

“My lord, forgive me, but I understood that I was to meet with the queen.” Brienne was not sure where Tyrion’s loyalties lay, and a man who would kill his own father would not hesitate to kill his brother’s wife. It would be a particularly fitting revenge.

“Consider me her gatekeeper, if you will.” Tyrion’s eyes fell to the sword Brienne carried.

“And what have you learned, my lord?” Brienne asked. _Am I Lannister enough for you, Tyrion?_ Like his siblings, he spoke to provoke a reaction. She had no doubt this conversation was meant to unsettle her. If Tyrion found her false, Brienne and Addam would not leave this ship.

Tyrion smiled. “My brother has relieved me of two wives. If I attempted to take you from him, I strongly suspect that Ser Addam would gut me in an instant,” he replied. “I will speak to the queen.” With that he turned and left the cabin.

Left alone with Addam, Brienne took a deep breath. “I should have let Jaime send the Hand,” she muttered. Addam snorted.

The door opened and two men entered, followed by a tiny, radiantly beautiful woman with long flaxen hair and violet eyes. She was dressed in a gauzy purple gown in the fashion of Essos.

“Your Grace.” Brienne greeted the queen with a curtsy that dug the edge of her breastplate into her stomach.

“Lady Lannister.” Queen Daenerys inclined her head slightly. She sat gracefully upon her improvised throne, her guards taking up positions to either side. A grizzled knight with a mark branded into his cheek. A stiff old knight, grey-haired but clearly strong. That must be Ser Barristan Selmy. Jaime did not lie when he said dismissing the man from the Kingsguard had been folly.  

Daenerys regarded Brienne coldly. “Even in Essos I heard tales of you. Some say you slew a king, others that you fought a bear, and still others that you lured the Kingslayer into your bed with blood magic. All agreed about your extraordinary ugliness. I must confess I am somewhat disappointed.”

”Tales are difficult to live up to, Your Grace,” Brienne replied, stung by the woman’s bluntness. “You travel with thousands of eunuch slaves. I find this runs counter to the tales which name you Breaker of Chains.”

"Men seek to brand what they do not understand. Brienne the Beauty. Kingslayer’s whore. Evenstar of Tarth. You understand the power of names.” Daenerys paused, and Brienne held her breath as the queen’s eyes traveled deliberately up from the floor, noting Brienne’s gown, the sword she wore, her armor, her scars. “I did not expect to like the woman who chose the Kingslayer as her husband.”

If the queen liked her, how did she speak to people she misliked? “Much has changed in Westeros and in my husband since the day he earned that name. King Aerys’ death was not as simple as it would appear.” Brienne was tired of justifying her love for Jaime. It was as much a part of her as breathing, and just as vital.

Daenerys frowned, her expression more at home on a pouting child than a fierce conqueror. “He should face me himself.”

Brienne could not stifle her laugh. “And let you strike off his head before he could say a word?”

Daenerys’ eyes widened in surprise. “So instead he hides behind his wife’s skirts?”

“The Lord Regent is no craven. This meeting was my suggestion. Perhaps that was a mistake, but it was mine, not his.” Brienne took a deep breath. Addam shifted uneasily at her side. This was not proceeding as she had intended. “Your Grace, when we met, Jaime was the prisoner of the lady I served. I know who he is and all he has done. Perhaps you should ask Ser Barristan about the king he killed.”

Daenerys considered that. “I have.” Her smooth features were briefly troubled.

“Then you know what sort of king he was, what sort of man.” Brienne hesitated. “My lord husband once saved me from rape by sellswords. He did not tell me until much later how many times he’d stood watch outside your mother’s bedchamber, listening to her cries and her pleading, and how his sworn brothers, Ser Barristan among them, ordered him not to intervene.”

Selmy’s gaze found hers. His eyes were cold.

Daenerys turned to look at Ser Barristan as well. “That may be, but I would appear a weak ruler if I let my father’s killer go free.”

Now Brienne was back on solid ground. This was what she had come for. “We know that. My lord husband sails to White Harbor, with or without your leave. The Night’s Watch is being overrun, there are wights all over the North, and the Others have forced the wildlings south of the Wall. Lord Stannis took his forces to the Wall and currently holds Winterfell, where Jaime will join him. Winter has sunk its teeth deep into the North. The crown must protect the whole realm, not just the Iron Throne.”

“It is likely that the Kingslayer will not survive,” Daenerys said with a small measure of satisfaction.

“He knows that.” _As do I._ The knowledge threatened to choke her. “But without your dragons in the North, you may find yourself ruler of a frozen barren waste.” Daenerys Stormborn had torn apart the cities of Slaver’s Bay after crossing the Red Waste on foot. She might not mind ruling a wasteland again.

The queen laughed mirthlessly. “I see. So the Kingslayer sends his wife to beg my assistance. This is a conquest, my lady. I need not negotiate with you.”

Brienne shook her head. Daenerys must understand that Jaime was not running from her. The Iron Throne was a distraction, and the game had gone on too long at too high a cost. “I am not here to negotiate. I come offering you terms of surrender on behalf of Lord Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, Regent of the Seven Kingdoms. The armies of Westeros need your dragons in the North. In return the Lord Regent will give you the Pretender Aegon Targaryen. King Tommen will abdicate and I will escort him to Casterly Rock.” She need not know that Tommen was already gone.

Daenerys’ eyes darted to Ser Barristan and her other guard. A Mormont of Bear Island, Jaime had said. He should understand the threat they faced. Slowly a light dawned in the young queen’s lovely face. “Lady Lannister, are you offering me the Iron Throne without further bloodshed?”

Brienne had not expected to say it so boldly, but she nodded. “To save us all, yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up on Wednesday. Comments greatly appreciated.


	7. Jaime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strangest group of commanders in Westeros battle the threat from the North and wait for reinforcements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Miss_M for her beta.

**Five moons later**

Jaime looked south from atop the walls of Winterfell again, hoping this time he would see riders approaching. Ser Addam’s raven from Casterly Rock had come three moons ago with the news that his wife and children had reached safety. Ser Addam was then to leave the Rock and bring Lannister forces north to Winterfell, where Jaime’s southern forces fought. The Night’s Watch had abandoned the Wall before he sailed, so they had come to White Harbor and from there directly to Winterfell.

They desperately needed reinforcements and supplies, and Jaime was eager for news. His ravens to Casterly Rock had been answered only once, by Sansa. Her missive had shared few details of daily life, focusing instead on stories about Tommen, Myrcella, Galladon, and Edmure’s daughter Catelyn. He reread it often.

Sansa made no mention of Brienne. Likely his wife spent every moment she could in the yard training with the knights in her service, and the rest dealing with squabbling bannermen and complaints from the smallfolk. Brienne would be cursing him by now for leaving her to the tedium of ruling. That thought brought a smile to Jaime’s face. She had a flock of children to care for, Edmure Tully to watch over, and a new queen to please. It would be a busy life if a lonely one. At least she need no longer worry about Cersei.

 _Cersei_. Jaime still could not quite believe she was dead. He’d seen the body, he knew it was true, but he still had trouble reconciling a world without his twin somewhere in it. Jaime had not stayed for her funeral. The ships had been ready to go and if they’d stayed much longer they might have met the Dragon Queen’s fleet. Still, Cersei’s broken form intruded on his thoughts nearly as often as Bran Stark’s. Jaime avoided the broken tower, but he had visited the godswood once. It was the only thing Arya had asked of him. Go to the heart tree, make your confession, she’d said. It was too much to ask that a man with so much to confess could find any peace, but Jaime did feel lighter once the task was done.

Jaime nodded to each sentry he passed as he returned to the Great Keep, where King Stannis—he refused to answer to anything else—and his red woman, Melisandre, waited to talk strategy again. The priestess made Jaime’s skin crawl, but Stannis kept her even closer than his Hand. Jaime had finally given up on speaking to Stannis without Melisandre present.

With food supplies dwindling, Stannis wanted to rid Winterfell of the Northern refugees sheltering here. Jaime would not turn them out with nowhere to go. Stannis suggested they join the wildlings at Last Hearth, but Jaime knew that Lord Commander Snow would never agree to that. Jon Snow was due back from a scouting mission before nightfall, but he left decisions that did not concern the Night’s Watch to Jaime and Stannis.

Jaime secretly thought there was no stranger group of commanders in all of Westeros. The one-handed Kingslayer, the Lord of Light’s humorless King, the boy Commander of the Night’s Watch, a red priestess and a Hand missing half his fingers. No wonder Queen Daenerys Stormborn was leaving them to freeze or starve, their ravens unanswered.

Two hours later, they’d come to an agreement. Women and children would go to Torrhen’s Square, where they would be somewhat safer, as soon as men could be spared to escort them.

A knock at the door startled them. “Come in,” Stannis commanded.

Ser Davos entered quickly. “Your Grace, men have arrived from Casterly Rock.” He looked as if there was something else he itched to say, but instead he stepped aside and a group of Lannister bannermen filed in.

Jaime was surprised he hadn’t heard the horn signalling approaching riders, but Stannis had been rather forceful in making his arguments. Jaime recognized Crakehall, Plumm, Banefort and others before a tall figure at the back of the group drew his eye. Cloaked in heavy furs like the rest, this knight remained hooded upon entering the warm room.

“Where is Ser Addam?” Jaime snapped, suspicion prickling in his chest.

“The stables, my lord. He’ll be along shortly,” Ser Davos replied.

Jaime waited to see if the tall knight would step forward. After several moments passed, Jaime grew impatient. “My lady, do you intend to hide behind Ser Raynard all day or will you come greet your lord husband?”

Stannis’ attention snapped up from the table to the assembled knights and lords. “What is the meaning of this?”

Reluctantly, a gloved hand reached up to pull back the hood Brienne wore. Her face was red with windburn and snow had melted in her hair despite the cloak, but to Jaime there had never been a sight more welcome or more feared. After everything he’d done to keep her safe, why was she here? “Jaime,” she said with an oddly formal nod, making no move to approach him. Her hand rested on Oathkeeper’s pommel.

Brienne could say half a hundred things with just his name, but just now it was a rebuke. Then Jaime realized he stood beside Stannis.

Brienne nodded at him as well, but her voice cut as sharp as her steel. “Lord Stannis.”

“King Stannis,” Melisandre chided, moving to stand beside her king. It would be difficult to find two more different-looking women than the red priestess in her flowing robes and Brienne in her armor. Jaime would not cross either of them if he could help it.

Stannis regarded her impassively, but spoke to Jaime. “We agreed to send the women and children away. Yours goes too. She is no man, no matter how much she plays at being one.”

Jaime turned and grabbed a handful of Stannis’ tunic. He leaned close and snarled, “It would serve you well to remember that Lady Brienne held Renly as he died. She swore to revenge her king, and my lady wife takes vows very, very seriously.” Jaime released the self-proclaimed king with a shove.

Stannis dropped one hand to his sword hilt. He was surrounded by Lannister men, though Jaime noted that Ser Davos carried a dagger at his hip. A reasonable man would back down, but Stannis Baratheon had never been reasonable. The man seemed to have been forged rather than born. Stannis considered Brienne. In full armor, Jaime’s wife was formidable.

Brienne’s eyes darted to her husband. He nodded once. She removed her hand from her sword, and Stannis relaxed.

Ser Addam walked into the room and froze when all eyes snapped to him.

Jaime glared at him. “Addam, why in seven hells is my wife here?”

Addam swallowed hard and looked to Brienne for support. “I found Valyrian steel held at my throat rather persuasive, my lord.”

Jaime sighed. He knew better than most how difficult Brienne could be. “Please tell me you did not bring my son here too.”

“No, we left Bear at the Rock in the care of Lady Stark and Lady Tully,” Addam replied, relieved to provide his liege lord and childhood friend with the answer he desired. The knight took his place at his lady’s side, likely for protection from Jaime’s wrath.

“Bear? Wife, I thought we agreed on ‘Galladon.’” Jaime ran his hand over his beard and winced. This absurd scene would undermine his authority over the men who had just arrived. If his own wife wouldn’t accept his orders, why should they?

Brienne laughed at his indignation. “His name _is_ Galladon. ‘Bear’ is an endearment, nothing more. And one you suggested, mind you.”

Jaime shook his head and steadied himself, pressing his hand into the tabletop where their futile battle plans were hastily sketched. He started to speak to Stannis, then realized he ought not call Stannis “king” in front of Lannister bannermen. “Ser Davos, can you bring Ser Addam and his men up to date?”

Davos looked to his king, who nodded. “Of course.”

Jaime looked up at his wife. Brienne still stood among the men, her eyes bright but wary. “If you will excuse me, I need a word with my lady wife.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, predictions with two chapters to go? Next chapter is Brienne.


	8. Brienne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne get some time alone before night falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to Miss_M for her support and excellent counsel.

The men stepped aside as Jaime took Brienne’s arm and led her out into the corridor. She felt like an overgrown child about to get a scolding. Even after half a year apart, his barely concealed fury was obvious to her.

Brienne followed Jaime up a flight of stairs, slowed by the weight of her armor, and across a covered bridge. They made their way through the armory and into another building before Jaime finally opened a door and waited for her to follow him inside.

It was a modest chamber, but it was private, a luxury due to Jaime’s position. There were few personal items, a few pieces of clothing strewn about, parchment and a quill, and what appeared to be a steel fist on the desk.

Jaime turned and pushed Brienne firmly against the wall. She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. Brienne tried to hold him, but her armor kept digging into both of them and finally she settled for resting one hand against her husband’s back. “Stupid stubborn wench, why did you come?” Jaime whispered, his breath hot against her neck.

 _After all this time, do you truly not know me at all?_ Brienne laughed, and Jaime pushed away, eyes blazing. The laughter died in her throat as she caught sight of his face. “Jaime,” she said, reaching out to grasp his hand. “You need every fighter you can get. I can fight. I _will_ fight.”

“And you will die, Brienne, far from home, far from our child,” Jaime growled, his voice rising with every word. “I trusted you, not Sansa, to raise him and protect him. You left my children in the care of Starks, Tullys, and Tyrells.” He broke free from Brienne’s grasp.

That stung. She would never put his children in danger. “I left Tommen in the care of Ser Loras and the Rock’s loyal staff. If you don’t trust Loras you should not have accepted his service.”

“Tommen is not my only concern, and you know it. Galladon needs you, not Starks and bloody Tullys to fill his head with tales of his worthless, oathbreaking father.” Jaime’s jaw clenched with the effort of keeping his voice down.

“Enough, Jaime. We’re agreed. I wish I could be with our son. If you thought it was hard leaving after a few days, it was much harder two moons later, when he was smiling and playful.” Brienne’s voice failed, their little boy’s smile filling her mind. She would not tell him how cold Casterly Rock felt, how sparring with Hyle and playing with Galladon were the only moments when she felt happy and whole. Without Jaime there, she felt like a fraud. When Brienne met with lords and smallfolk, Cersei’s shadow always loomed over her, sneering that Brienne was not fit to rule Casterly Rock.

Brienne took a deep breath. “I’m here. I spent every spare moment of our journeys sparring with Ser Addam, and at the Rock I beat Ser Hyle into the dust every day. Do you have so many capable fighters here that you can send me away?”

“Hunt was still at Casterly Rock?” Jaime’s mouth twisted as he said the name. _Is he jealous?_ Brienne nearly laughed again.

“Yes, along with Edmure Tully, who was grateful to see his nieces, I must say.” Lord Edmure had not really known what to make of the Lady of Casterly Rock. He remembered her in service to Lady Catelyn, and luckily Hyle had not told him about Lady Stoneheart’s true identity. Edmure had kept Jaime’s golden hand on a shelf in his chambers, though Brienne had not understood why.

Jaime did not respond, crossing the room to look out the narrow window. Night would fall within the hour. He sat on the edge of his bed.

Finally Brienne was driven to fill the silence. “Did you not miss me at all, Jaime?” she asked quietly, twisting her hands together. This was a mistake. If he sent her to Torrhen’s Square now, this might be her last memory of her husband. Jaime angry and disappointed was not how she wanted to remember him.

Jaime looked up at Brienne, his anger finally ebbing. “How can you ask me that? If I were alone, I would have died sword in hand before the Iron Throne. All of this was for you and my children.” All the fight had gone out of him.  

“I would not let you die when I thought you the most dishonorable man in Westeros. You think I will let you die now? You are _mine_.” Brienne crossed the room in three strides, fell heavily to her knees, and pressed her hand to his chest. “We made vows, Jaime. Daenerys Targaryen cannot stand between us.”

Jaime gently stroked her cheek. “Did you ever intend to stay at the Rock?”

Brienne bit her lip and shook her head. “No. Not unless it was truly unsafe.” She shifted, trying to relieve the pain in her knees. Armor was not meant for kneeling.

Jaime stood and tugged her up. “We should get this armor off. We don’t use it here. Holds the cold and makes you slow. We’ll find you some boiled leather if you don’t have any.” He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “Now you will tell me how you came to be here. Start with the queen.”

Jaime began removing her armor as efficiently as a man with one hand could.

“You must know your brother was with her,” Brienne began, helping him with some of the more difficult buckles and fastenings. This, at least, was familiar. They had all quickly learned that Tommen’s enthusiastic practice with a morningstar required that his teacher don full armor.

Jaime nodded. “A raven from him was waiting when we arrived. Tyrion is Hand of the Queen. They sent Lord Mace back to Highgarden.”

“The queen was … less hostile than I expected. More pragmatic. She accepted the abdication, but Ser Addam and I still departed the city before nightfall. We rode hard and caught up with Ser Loras after a day and a half.” Brienne stopped, her breath catching. Jaime’s fingers had found their way under her tunic at her hip. It was almost like before they were wed, when even his slightest touch excited her, but now she knew exactly what pleasures they could wring from each other, given enough time. Their armor had not stayed on long that one afternoon in the armory. She blushed.

Jaime cocked an eyebrow at her and slowly removed his hand, returning to his task with a small smirk upon his face. His hair was too long. It kept falling into his eyes and Brienne brushed it off his face before she continued speaking.

“We started hearing wolves a fortnight out of King’s Landing. One night the wolves came close enough we could see them, and Ser Loras spotted a direwolf among them.” Jaime swore under his breath, but did not interrupt further.

Jaime removed the last piece of armor and set it aside. He gently pulled Brienne down until she sat beside him on the narrow bed. She was still covered in heavy, sweat-dampened wool and padding, but at least she could now move more freely. The blacksmith at the Rock had done his best, but her armor was still slightly too tight around her hips and she was glad to be out of it.

Brienne took a deep breath and linked her fingers with Jaime’s. “That night Galladon wouldn’t sleep and I spent hours walking the camp with him.” Jaime’s hand squeezed hers briefly as she said their son’s name. “I noticed Loras’ sentry had fallen asleep and was going to wake him, but then I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.”

“Arya went to the direwolf,” Jaime supplied.

Brienne looked at her husband sharply. “How did you know that?”

Jaime shrugged. “The Starks had a strange bond with their direwolves. Hers disappeared in the Riverlands when we came south from Winterfell.”

“The pack followed us, at a distance, all the way to Deep Den.” Brienne shuddered a little at the memory. The first few nights Loras and Addam had set so many sentries it seemed that no one was sleeping. “After that, the direwolf stayed nearby even as we left the pack behind. It was still living in the woods around the Rock when Addam and I left.”

Jaime’s shoulders started to shake, and a laugh escaped his throat. “My brother is the Hand of a Targaryen queen, I defend Winterfell, and a bloody direwolf guards Casterly Rock. If Father wasn’t dead, this would certainly kill him.”

Brienne smiled, but didn’t think it very amusing. She was simply glad to hear Jaime laugh again.

When his laugh quieted, Jaime wrapped his arms around Brienne with a sigh. “Wench, you are in my head even when you’re not with me, but I did miss having you at my side and in my bed.” He drew her closer and began nuzzling her neck.

Brienne felt dirty from the long, cold journey and stiff from trying to sleep while they rode, but Jaime did not seem to care. His hand found bare skin and ran up her side, making her shiver. “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless.

“What do you think?” Jaime got up, barred the door, and came back to her. She knew well the hungry look in his green eyes, and tried to help when Jaime began pulling the layers of wool and linen off over her head, baring her skin to the cold. He pushed her back on the bed and made quick work of removing the rest of her clothes.

As Brienne burrowed under the furs, watching him remove boots, breeches, and tunic, the fear she’d carried from King’s Landing began to ease. Fear that Jaime would die before she reached him, fear that the queen would break her word and kill them all anyway.

Jaime joined Brienne in the narrow bed, and his skin sliding against hers was enough to drive away any thought of the queen. For a while there was only his mouth hot on her throat, her hands stroking his back, his smile and his eyes looking down at her, and finally the feel of him moving deep inside her.

By the time Jaime reached down between them to pull her over the edge with him, all Brienne could say was his name over and over, “Jaime,” meaning _there_ and _now_ and _mine_ as he repeated her own name back breathlessly.

They were dozing in each other’s arms when a knock on the door woke them. Jaime reluctantly got up, pulling on breeches and tossing her a tunic to put on before opening the door. A black-clad figure stood in the hall. Brienne needed no introduction. Jon Snow looked just like Arya.

“My lord, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Jaime shook his head. “Lord Snow, you have wretched timing. My wife has just arrived from Casterly Rock. Brienne, this is Lord Commander Jon Snow of the Night’s Watch. Snow, this is my wife, Lady Brienne Lannister, the Evenstar of Tarth.”

Jon gave her a quick nod, but Brienne was surprised when his eyes glanced right over her scars and he looked her directly in the eye. In the frozen North, battle scars must be a far more frequent sight than they were in the South. He didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be speaking to a lady still abed, one doing her best to hide under the furs. “My lady, I hear I have you to thank for bringing my sisters to safety.”

“We made a vow to their mother. No thanks are needed,” Brienne replied.

Jon turned his attention back to Jaime. “The wights were stirring as we came south. We have perhaps half an hour before they start massing at the north wall.”

“I’ll assemble my men. Our reinforcements will need a bit of training,” Jaime replied. “They’ll learn or they’ll burn,” he added in a convincing imitation of Stannis.

Jon laughed, but it sent a shiver through Brienne.

Jaime closed the door behind Jon as he left. “Have you ever seen battle, Brienne? Aside from the Brotherhood, of course.”

Brienne reluctantly shook her head, watching as Jaime quickly dressed. He picked up the steel fist and strapped it on. He’d not wanted a new hand made when they were in King’s Landing, though this looked far more functional than the gold one.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here tonight?” he asked hopefully.

Brienne snorted. “No.”

Jaime smiled and opened a trunk in the corner. “You can wear my spare leathers. Stay on my right side, but you’ll need to keep clear of the torch.”

“Torch?” Brienne accepted the heavy leather armor and got out of bed. She dressed quickly and began armoring herself.

Jaime leaned up behind her, his left hand on Brienne’s hip again. “You have to burn wights, otherwise they don’t stop moving, even the pieces you cut off.” He held up the steel hand, and now she she could see a hole in the fist. “I hold a torch with this.” Jaime brushed a kiss along the side of her neck and stepped back to put his own boiled leather on.

The combination of Jaime so close and the prospect of imminent battle sent Brienne’s blood rushing again. Her breathing quickened and her hands shook a little as she fastened the last buckles, Oathkeeper heavy against her hip.

Jaime buckled Widow’s Wail around his waist, then tossed their cloaks over his arm and opened the door. He looked back at Brienne, smiling as he took in the sight of her. “Are you ready?”

This was what they were made for: singing blood and clashing steel. Two warriors united before gods and men. Brienne followed Jaime to the door, her hand on the back of his neck drawing him into one more kiss. “Always.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost at the end. Thanks for taking this journey with me. The last chapter will be posted Wednesday. I make only one promise: dragons.


	9. The Ballad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Long Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more round of thanks for Miss_M for betaing this, especially for her improvements to this chapter.

 

 

**Winterfell: 40 years later**

 

“Tell us again!” the little boy demanded. Even scrubbed clean he looked dirty, dark hair standing up in messy spikes above piercing blue eyes.

The old woman set down her embroidery and sighed. “Why do you want that tale again? I told it last night.”

“It’s romantic!” the girl piped up. She was the older of the two, just old enough to adore tales of handsome knights and lovely maidens. Her long red hair shone in the firelight.

“I know other tales, you know,” the woman replied reproachfully. She flipped her long braid, once red but now silver and white, over her shoulder.

“Tell us anyway. Please, Grandmother,” the girl insisted.

The woman sighed, her eyes drawn to the red and black blade of House Stark hanging on the wall. “If I must.”

She waited until the children settled on the floor before her, then began. “The Kingslayer and the Lady Evenstar met in the dungeons of Riverrun. Men named them both beasts, though for different reasons. The lady was a maid then, but tall and strong, fierce and honorable. The Kingslayer, despite his long imprisonment, a lion: beautiful, proud, and deadly.

“They were captured by outlaws during the War of the Five Kings, and the Kingslayer was maimed. He had been the best swordsman of his age, so they took his sword hand. He might have died then, but the lady bid him live, and he did.”

“Skip to the end, that’s the good part!” the boy demanded.

She smiled sadly. “The good part?”

“The Long Night,” he prompted.

The woman set down her mending. “The combined forces of the Stormlands, the West, and the North fought together for many moons. The lady, now the Kingslayer’s wife, fought at his side as the nights grew longer, each day shorter than the last. But still the wights came. Night fell in the North, and the sun no longer rose. Each dark day, their enemies grew in number, and they despaired whether the queen would fulfill her promise to bring her dragons to push back the darkness. Finally a night came when the Others were sighted just beyond these very walls. Lord Stannis took his mighty sword Lightbringer out to face them, but he was slain in the battle.

“The Evenstar and the Kingslayer went out together, but more Others appeared. They fought bravely, side by side and back to back, for what seemed hours. Finally the Kingslayer, good as he was, faltered but a moment, and an ice blade took him in the gut. The lady’s scream echoed across the fields of white, and wolves across the Seven Kingdoms howled in fury. She slew the Others in her grief and carried the dying Kingslayer back into the castle. She brought him to the godswood, beneath the heart tree, where he breathed his last in her arms. His funeral pyre was the beacon that drew the queen’s dragons to Winterfell at last. With the dragons fighting alongside the Evenstar’s forces and the Night’s Watch, the tide of the battle turned. The sun rose on the seventh day after the Kingslayer’s death.”

“What happened to the lady?” the girl asked softly. She had heard this tale half a hundred times, yet tears shone in her green eyes with each telling.

“You know what happened, sweetling. You saw her just last year when she visited. The Evenstar lives. She returned the Starks to Winterfell and took her lion’s bones and their son home to her island in the Narrow Sea. Long ago the Kingslayer had bid her live, and fight, and love. So she did. She raised their son and taught him well, fought for her family and her home, and found some happiness in the life she built.”

The girl wiped away her tears. “It’s still sad.”

The old woman smiled and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Tomorrow night we will have a happier tale.”

The children would learn, in time, the harshness of life and the strength needed to govern. Winter was coming. It was always coming. The war and the darkness had already faded into legend, even though some who had lived through it still remained. Few now lived who had known the Kingslayer and the Lady Evenstar—Jaime and Brienne—as Sansa had. Not even the Stranger could part them. Their love lived on in Lady Brienne’s wise rule of Tarth. It lived on in the fine man they made together, his quick wit and his steadfast honor, Oathkeeper in his hand. It lived on in the peace they forged at such great cost.

Love like that never dies.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone who took the time to read this entire saga.


End file.
